


The Kid Who Catches Backpacks

by stammed_cleams



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: A lot of talking, Angst, Gen, Guilt, Imposters Syndrome, Lots of Crying, Meeting grandparents, Nightmare Forest related trauma, angst angst angst, thats just the mood we in, this is an angsty one fellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stammed_cleams/pseuds/stammed_cleams
Summary: Digby Thistlespring's parents text him to tell him they want to try and make amends, and are interested to meet his son. When Gorgug's parents ask him if he's alright with that, it dredges up more than he expects, and he has to spend a little time working out his feelings of guilt and his memories of the Nightmare King's Forest before he can make his decision to bridge the gap between his extended family or not.
Relationships: Gorgug Thistlespring & Digby Thistlespring, Gorgug Thistlespring & Wilma Thistlespring, Zelda Donovan/Gorgug Thistlespring
Comments: 66
Kudos: 212





	1. The News

Gorgug, admittedly, shouldn’t have been up that late. At a little past midnight he was crammed up in his bed in the dark, texting Zelda intermittently about little bits of nothing in their lives. He was getting tired now - he couldn’t stay up crazy late like Fig or Riz could - but it was a Friday, so he wasn’t too worried about it. He and Zelda had been telling him about how things were in her adventuring party - Gorgug had been sending her stories in return. It was absolutely silent. 

Then, from downstairs, there came a pair of muted voices. His parents. What were they doing up? They were never up this late, they were strong believers in eight hours a night to the point where he went to bed at 7 until freshman year. He put his phone to his chest, letting the room go dark, and listening. They were quiet - inaudible, almost. But their tone wasn’t good. They sounded… anxious. That, he could hear above the words. 

Something that Gorgug was very good at was proving what was nature and what was nurture. Things like green skin, sharp teeth were nature, obviously, but apparently ability to navigate spaces half your size without banging things around was very much a learned trait. With the ceiling an inch from his head and the walls all no more than a foot away from him he swiftly texted a ‘brb’ to Zelda and then navigated cautiously off of his bed and onto the floor, shifting until he was slightly curled up with his ear to the ground. Not a plank in the tree shifted - apparently gnomish quiet wasn’t something you were born with. 

Worry immediately rose in his gut - his father was speaking, and he sounded exasperated.

“I-I don’t know, Wilma, I mean they really expect me to believe they’ve just come around after-after years without a peep?”

“Well, I mean, Gorgug’s been making a name for himself! Maybe they saw his concerts or his name in lights and they wanted to reach out,” answered Wilma softly.

“No, that doesn’t sound right… My parents are real traditional, they don’t care for music unless it’s gnomish stuff.”

Gorgug creased his eyebrows, and listened closer - he’d briefly come in contact with his maternal grandparents, but he couldn’t even put a face to the parents of his father. The image of the Sphinx jumped into his head and his body went cold, the way it always did when he tried to remember things from the Forest of the Nightmare King. The image of his young parents throwing out a family of gnomes over an orcish baby as tall as they were…

Wilma went on to say, “Well, then, maybe they’re just… coming around, Digby! He’s still their grandson, I mean, maybe they’ve seen the error of their ways. Read me the text again, would you dear?”

There was a sigh, and then, in a somewhat monotone voice, Digby said, “Hello, Digby. I know we haven’t spoken in some time. Darra and I are going on a trip and will be close to Elmville soon - I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but I was wondering if we could come by for a brief visit. Sunday would be best for us, just before dinner. How are Wilma and your son? Please respond soon - Gigget Thistlespring.”

A tone of optimism clung boldly to Wilma’s voice - “They said they wanted to see me and Gorgug, that’s a good sign!”

“I don’t know, Wilma. They didn’t even use his name! I mean this - this is worrying if ever I’ve heard it…”

“Well, what is it you’re worried will happen? Worse comes to worst we make them leave again, we did it once and we can do it again.”

Digby sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just…” he spoke a little softer. Gorgug had to strain to hear. “You know how sensitive Gorgug can get sometimes, you know, the boy’s - the boy’s a real sweetheart. And my parents are… critical! And I’m afraid that if they come here just to be critical they’ll… get inside his head…”

There was a pause after he said that. “Well,” Wilma answered, “He’s not a stupid kid, Digby. I think if we explain to him what the situation is and who he’s meeting and we’re honest with him, he’s gonna be okay. I mean, he’s saved the world! Twice! He’s got his friends and his girlfriend now, and he’s doing all that tinkering and drumming! He’s really done well with himself, he’s grown up a whole lot since middle school!”

“I know that… And I do think we need to communicate with him, it’s just… family’s different from other people. If you know your family thinks bad of you, it can really mess with you, you and I know that.”  
Wilma’s voice hushed. “They’re not his family, Digs. They’re yours. To him, they’re a couple of strangers who just wanna know him better. If things go sour, he never has to see them again.”

There was a moment of quiet, before Digby answered. “You’re right. I think you and me should sit him down tomorrow. Sorry to wake you, dear, it just… took me by a bit of a surprise!” he laughed slightly. 

“Hey, now you can always wake me, don’t you worry!” Wilma assured him, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

And then, the both of them went quiet. 

Gorgug sat up to the best extent he could, and sat in the silence. He wouldn’t go to sleep tonight, that much he knew. He looked at his phone, wincing at the brightness, at the notification from Zelda that sad ‘kk!’. He turned his phone over and set it on his bedside table, curling up into a ball against his bed and thinking about the day to come.


	2. The Sphinx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sleepless night, Gorgug reveals to his parents parents what he knows about his extended family in a discussion about whether or not he wanted to meet his grandparents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy guys, gals, and gumbies!!!! truly, who knew so many people loved gorgug??? me. i did. i knew so many people loved him, because hes perfect, hes the perfect boy.
> 
> this chapter only delves into deeper angst! i did warn you, didnt i? gugs basically cries through this entire fic and we stan. the boys damaged what can i say!!!! anyway. thanks for the comments, enjoy!!!

Come Saturday, Gorgug was exhausted. He hadn’t slept a wink that night - instead, he’d favored staying up on his phone and strolling through Instagram, going over the same posts six or seven times before moving to YouTube videos about Artificer Restoration with a dull, old voice droning on about some artifact they were working on with crystal magic and acid to get rid of the rust. Soon after she first texted, Zelda texted back, ‘gorgug?’. He ignored her. A few minutes after that, she texted, ‘i guess you fell asleep lol, gn!! <3’. A slight warmth coming to his chest, he’d slid that up to. The last text that came in that night was from Riz, at 3 AM. It actually woke him out of whatever sleep he was close to getting - as it turned out it was a deeply distorted picture captioned ‘TFW U MEET THE NIGHTMARE KING AND YOU. H’. Irked from his being woken up, he quickly shot off, ‘Lmao mood’ and then turned off his ringer, gave up on sleep, and went irritably back to his arcane restoration videos.

Despite the fact that he didn’t sleep at all, he slept in pretty late. A lot of the time he had plans on Saturdays, concerts with Fig or meets for Bloodrush, but this happened to be a free Saturday. Great. Most free Saturdays he slept in a little, went outside for a bit, maybe asked his parents for help with his homework and the family would put on a movie. If he didn’t stay home he’d hang with the bad kids at the manor, or with Zelda in the park. He was generally a pretty responsible riser, and the latest he’d sleep in was around nine. It was now 9:30, and things would start getting suspicious. 

Putting off the inevitable, he picked up his phone again. A text from Riz, from hours ago.

**Wait dude are you up??**

Gorgug considered answering it and explaining. He didn’t  _ super  _ want to. Then again, he didn’t much want to talk to his parents either. And even if he did, he’d be several hours late, who was to say that Riz would even be up? Nevertheless, he answered, keeping it conversational - as if Riz wouldn’t immediately know that responsible little 9-6 on school nights, at least 8 hours Gorgug Thistlespring was acting out of character. 

**lol why did you send me a meme if you thought i wasn’t up**

He knew the answer to that. Riz responded how he thought he would.

**For the morning dude. I didn’t wake you up did I??**

Gorgug lied:

**Nope I was just up**

There was a moment of typing, then it went away. It popped back up, and there was the simple message:

**Is everything good?**

**yeah dude, why?**

The typing bubbles appeared once, disappeared, appeared again, and vanished. Gorgug sighed, and hit his phone with his head. Now he’d done it.

**No reason lol you’re just not usually a late night guy.**

Gorgug thought for a moment about what to say, before flippantly typing back,

**idk it was the weekend and i just kinda felt like chillin**

From Riz, a moment later,

**Cool.**

The conversation ended, and Gorgug clicked his phone off. He’d tell all the other bad kids that something was wrong and Kristen would blurt out some overly concerned phrase and then he’d be in the middle of an intervention, which was what always happened. He should have known better than to have texted back anything at all - he could have just swiped it away and read it tomorrow, like he always did with Riz. How was it his phone woke him up at all?

Well, it was almost 9:45. He’d have to face the music sometime. With a heavy sigh to try and suppress the building anxiety in his chest he sat up from his bed, stretched, ruffled his hair into place and headed downstairs still in his fleece pajama pants and T-shirt. 

From his room he made his typical weekend path to the cabinet for breakfast. The usual sound of two peppy “Mornin, bud!”’s came from the living room and he returned the greeting with his own. They were less peppy today than usual, though. He stared into the cabinet, pretending to be very fascinated with the saltines. 

“How’d you sleep?” his mother asked.

“Uhh… pretty normal,” he answered her, “What about you?”  
“Just fine!” she answered. Worry lingered on her voice. At this point Gorgug couldn’t help but look over to see Digby just beside her in the hall, hand slightly on her back in the traditional parent-talk pose. He swallowed heavily.

“What’s um… something going on, or…”

“Nothing’s going on, bud, we just had a little something we wanted to talk to you about,” his father said, “But if you wanna talk after breakfast-”

Gorgug shrugged, faux-apathetically. “I’m alright to talk now,” he said. 

“Good…” his father said. Gorgug regarded him carefully and he came to know that he hadn’t slept either, dark circles under his eyes and thicker lines along his forehead. “Good,” he muttered again softly. 

Gorgug sat himself down in a dining room chair, having to crouch down, as always, beneath the light fixture above. His parents sat down in their own chairs just across from him, tilting them to face him right out. His heart was pounding. 

“So,” his father started out, “I uh… I recently got word from _my_ mom and dad, that is- your grandparents, that they wanted to… well they wanted to come out and meet ya! And me n’ your mother here thought the idea of that was pretty swell but, you know… my parents can sometimes be kinda tricky people to get along with!” he chuckled, but it was clear the words he wanted to use were much more severe than that. Gorgug shrunk away from the sound of a veiled, though genuine insult coming from his father. He’d gotten rear-ended by an absolutely shitfaced barbarian from a bachelor party and called him ‘one of the loveliest folks he’s had the pleasure of meeting!’. These people must have been monsters. “So, we thought it was only right that we asked what you thought of the idea of them swinging by tomorrow.”  
Gorgug stared at the legs of his pants for a few moments, unreasonably nervous. An outsider would have found it surprising how terrified the large, powerful orc barbarian was of the slightest irritation or annoyance from his tiny gnomish father. Gorgug had practically shrunken to half his size, no longer able to make eye contact. The fact that he spoke so poorly of them made him never want to live on the same planet as them, really - maybe he should just say no. 

Then again. If they were really coming around, who was he to turn them away?

“Um…” he muttered, “Did they say why they wanted to come around?”

His parents exchanged looks. Wilma spoke up, “Well, honey, I think they’re trying to just sort of… mend ties with the family, and see all of us, maybe get to know you a little better!” she said optimistically. 

Gorgug hunched over even smaller. “Um…” he said slowly, but nothing after it came out. He wanted to cry.

Picking up on this, his mother consoled, “Well, bud, you don’t have to say yes-”

“No, yeah, I know that,” Gorgug answered. “There’s something I… kinda wanna tell you guys.”  
The two of them gave each other an anxious look. “What is it bud?” his dad asked. 

“You remember when I told you guys about what I saw in the Nightmare Forest?”

This only solidified their worry, both of their backs stiffening and their teeth pressing together. Still, they kept their composure. “Mhm,” answered his mother, forcing a sympathetic smile.

“Well…” Gorgug began, “Remember I told you that… every time the Sphinx showed me like, a clue for the puzzle, it also showed me like, a thing about me? Well, um… I didn’t wanna tell you what it was before, because um… um…” Staring down and trying to speak, he noticed there were tears forming in his eyes, and chuckling insecurely he them away. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay, bud. What is it?”  
“I… It showed me me when I was like, a baby. And you guys were there and a bunch of other gnomes were there, and you were all having a really big fight and you told them to leave and…” He took in a sharp breath, and let it out, “I know that… I’m the reason you guys don’t…. talk to your parents and your brothers and sisters and stuff. And um… I’m just really sorry I shook everything up like that.” At that point he was crying more than he liked to, and he sniffed insecurely and swiftly wiped his eyes. “If it’s true that that happened, I guess it was the Nightmare Forest so… you can’t be sure.”  
The Thistlesprings looked _horrified._

Digby’s jaw had fallen open, and he ran a tiny hand through his explosive graying hair. Wilma immediately welled up with tears, leaned forward, and put her hands on Gorgug’s knee. Gorgug averted his gaze - great, he’d upset them. Again.

“Oh, honey, that’s not - That is  _ not  _ what happened at all!” his mother insisted

“Gorgug, buddy, can you look at me for a second?” his dad asked soberly. Gorgug swallowed, and forced himself to make eye contact. His father was already crying silently, tears running down his little rosy cheeks. “You are the  _ best  _ thing to  _ ever  _ happen to me and your mother. If I had to go back and do it again, I’d do it without blinking, Heck, I’d trade more if I had to. I do not resent or regret a single  _ second  _ that you have been in our lives, okay, not the bad times and not the good times, and I know for a  _ fact  _ your mother feels just the same way.”

Wilma nodded along passionately. “And Gorgug, honey, what you have to know is…” she winced for a moment, and then looked at Digby, as if for permission for something. He nodded back at her. “Your father and I - well, especially your father - have had troubles with our families long before you came into our lives. Me and your dad found each other  _ because  _ we wanted to live open-mindedly - We… try not to talk about this stuff with you because we don’t want you to feel like you come from bad roots… But your family can be… well, they can be some real closed-minded folk!” She softened her voice, trying to meet her eyes with her son, “This was a fight that was gonna end with us parting somehow bud. The fact that what did it was the best thing to ever happen to us means that I absolutely wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Gorgug sniffed, trying to hear his parents. Suddenly he felt very young again, comforted by the forms of his upbeat, sweet-hearted parents. His mother had never really held him (she set up various contraptions to physically move him) but it didn’t really matter, because she was affectionate anyway - little hands around his shoulders, kisses on the forehead, hugs around as much of him as she could manage. His father was always the same, impossibly sweet and loving. He wanted to feel that way again, young and loved with no knowledge of how much damage he had done. He wanted to be young enough to believe what his parents were saying. But as it was, a voice in his head was telling him, in the voice of the enormous Sphinx, ‘ _ They’re lying to make you feel better, because they love you. The poor things are cursed to love you. They gave up their lives to care for you and this is what you give back to them? You’re a disappointment. You’re a disgrace.  _ There was a coldness in his chest. He knew the voice must have been right. 

He looked away, and shifted backwards away from his mother’s touch. “If you don’t like them, why do you want me to meet them?”

“Buddy, we could have it either way. They reached out because maybe, hopefully, they’re opening up about that sort of thing, but it’s completely on you.”

Gorgug nodded. “Do I have to decide right now?”

“Of course not, but-”

“Cool, I’m gonna go shower.” He sprung out of his seat, eyes still averted, and hurried up into his room. 

While picking out his clothes he shot off a text to Zelda:

**Hey sorry I flaked last night, something came up. i need to talk to you about something, can we meet up at the park today?**

He then paused for a moment, recognizing how that sounded, and double-texted:

**it’s not an us thing it’s just like a personal thing i need some advice with**

There was a moment of typing before she answered:

**yeah of course!! is everything ok?**

**Yeah im ok. Just kinda need to talk. Meet you at the park entrance at 10?**

**sure!**

He put his phone away, collected his clothes, and snuck into the bathroom to shower. Once he was done and had gotten dressed, he stood in front of the mirror, and wiped off the fog. It wasn’t that his parents had done a bad job raising him, he thought, staring at his black eyes and forest green skin. He wouldn’t have anyone believe a thing like that - they took every precaution to make sure he felt good about himself. They made sure he was in diverse schools since he was in pre-school, they filled his life with positive orcish role models, movie heroes, comic books, action figures, young adult novels and storybooks. Ever since he knew words he was hearing about “Blantharg, the cool and caring orc who loves to hang out with his friends and keep the planet clean!” and various other strikingly similar role models designed to make him feel not different.

But he  _ was  _ different. He wasn’t quite dumb enough to have missed that. No, he wasn’t lucky enough to be that stupid - instead he was in a horrible middleground, too smart to think he belonged anywhere and too dumb to know how to change that. The fact of the matter was, your parents were your role models before you knew what a role model was. Looking in the mirror some part of him had always wanted to see a smart, rosy-cheeked, three foot tall gnomish tinkerer smiling gently back at him. No one had ever understood it. Orcs were cool and strong and gnomes were lame and small, that’s what all the other children thought. They could never understand what Gorgug saw what he looked in the mirror. He hated to say it, but he was starting to think there was absolutely nothing his perfect parents could do about it. He saw something ugly looking back at him - perhaps he always would.


	3. Crazy About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgug consults Zelda about the events going on, and she helps him understand his faulty logic around what he feels his parents must think of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! so according to the comments this is 'extremely sad' and 'making you cry'. but my argument against that is, would brennan not be proud? anyway heres more sad shit, love yall! might be a sad fabian related fic coming up soonish as well. what can i say. I Love That Sad Shit, I Really Really Do. dont forget to comment if you liked it my lovelies!!!

Gorgug met Zelda at the edge of the park and they took a moment alone to head down to the bench and sit by the lake, her head against his shoulder as they listened to the lighter of her heavy metal in one ear, the ambient sounds of the park in the other. He’d told her everything he’d heard on the way there, fairly straightforwardly, but the way he felt about it was clear. Zelda looked up at the anxious expression on his face and took out her headphone. 

“Hey, um… If I can ask, why  _ are _ you so anxious at the idea of meeting your grandparents? Like, specifically.” 

Gorgug took out his own headphone, and leaned against the back of the bench. He looked up into the sky for a moment and considered. “I guess it’s cause, like… I’m gonna disappoint them, I guess,” he said cautiously.

“Disappoint them?” asked Zelda, perplexed.

“Yeah… I mean I kinda already… I mean, well, mm…” he danced around the subject for a moment, thinking about a way to word it that wouldn’t make him seem as pathetic as he felt, “I kinda feel like… once a failure, always a failure.” He laughed as if it was funny, sorrow deep in his face. Zelda only looked more confused.

“Wait - Gorgug - you don’t think like, your parents would be disappointed in you?”

“I mean…” he smiled insecurely. He waffled in his speech, tucking his hands in his pockets, but a coldness in his heart knew the answer for absolute certain. “They’re these, you know, nice little smart gnomes, and I’m just kinda stupid and get like, really pissed off about stuff, so… I guess, kinda, maybe sometimes…” he admitted carefully.

Zelda blinked at that. She spoke slowly, and counted on her fingers. “Ok. Gorgug? You are literally a rockstar drummer,  _ on  _ the bloodrush team, with  _ tons  _ of loving friends, a sweet caring personality, and! You saved the world, two times! And I mean you’re a better tinkerer than some of the actual artificers in school, and that’s not even your main focus! I mean, I don’t - I don’t want to - I don’t mean to, you know, say so much nice stuff or whatever, but my point is… in what world could you disappoint  _ anyone?  _ You’re like, objectively an unrealistically cool teenager, and that’s only like the big stuff, that’s not even counting the… the stuff that… like, the cute small stuff, the stuff that I like, or whatever.”

At this point, Gorgug was in a full deep green blush. “Oh…” was all he could say. “Well that’s… that’s really, really nice Zelda, but I mean that stuff… I mean, that’s not me. Not really.”

“What… does that mean?”  
Gorgug shrugged, admittedly not entirely sure. 

“Okay, do you mind if I- take you through it again so I can pin down what you don’t believe is true?”

“Sure,” answered Gorgug, sounding tired.

“Okay, you are a rockstar drummer.”

“Well, I mean, Fig’s really the headliner.”  
“On the bloodrush team.”

“I feel like that’s sort of genetics? They look for bigger guys I feel like, cause I’m not super good at it like Fabian is.”  
“With tons of friends.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that’s about,” he chuckled.

“A sweet personality.”

“I mean, I guess I try to…”

“You saved the world  _ two times.” _

“I guess? Kind of. Really it was Riz who killed Kalvaxis, and I mean, I kind of got caught on the stairs when we fought the Nightmare King, I honestly wasn’t even super sure who we were fighting...”

Zelda paused, staring at him blankly. 

Gorgug squirmed uncomfortably. “What?” he asked. 

“Gorgug, have you… have you ever like, been to Jawbone about this stuff?”

He sat up, creasing his eyebrows. “Um… no,” he answered honestly, “Should I, is that- is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird it’s just - Okay, can you… explain to me in your own words, and I- I promise I won’t say anything judgy or like weird, or whatever, can you… would you be okay telling me, why you think your parents would be disappointed by you?”

“Yeah, I could do that,” Gorgug answered, though as soon as he was shuffling in his seat he felt he may have spoke too soon. He cleared his throat. It occurred to him he’d never put it in words before. It seemed like a casual conversational topic - but suddenly the Sphinx was back and the chill ran through him, sweat appearing on his forehead as the rate of his heart kicked up. He laughed meekly. “Wow, my heart is racing, that’s weird,” he observed.

“It’s okay,” said Zelda, sympathetically, and placed a hand on his back. 

Gorgug caught a breath. “I guess it’s sort of that… um… when I saw the Sphinx in the Nightmare Forest, I told you about that, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, that, it um, it did the whole, one hint about the puzzle and one… fact about my life and stuff, and like you know that it said my relatives said I’d just be really angry all the time, or whatever. And like, I’m- I’m not really smart, and… I don’t get really good grades. And I get really mad… a lot. Sometimes I’ll just get really mad at home and I’ll sort of… slam a door or something and my parents will be there and they’ll just look at me like… And I feel just… really bad! Just really bad…” he was trying to force a laugh, but tears were already welling in his eyes. Zelda looked at him sympathetically, her hand now rubbing softly on his back.

“Gorgug…” she said gently, and then her words failed her. She opened her mouth to speak a few times with no sound coming out, before she shut her eyes and let out a breath. To her own surprise, there were tears in her eyes too, and she gently wiped them away. 

Gorgug sat rigidly up upon seeing her cry. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured him.

“Did I make things too sad?”

She shook her head, looking down at her lap. “I just…” she said gently, “I just can’t believe someone like you could possibly see yourself that way.”

That rendered Gorgug silent - normally neither him nor Zelda could communicate much more than the fact that they looked ‘cute’ or ‘hot’. The compliments, the feelings for each other (at least in the complex sense) had to stay in the subtext, and they were both constantly trying to overcome that statement. It was a slow progression, and as of late things had gotten more genuine. But Zelda had never said anything that meaningful to him before. 

Zelda sat up, and sniffed. “Listen, Gorgug… I think that any family members who wouldn’t be absolutely thrilled by you would be… really, really stupid. And I know your parents, and they- I mean they’re- they’re crazy about you! And I’m- I’m… I’m crazy about you. And not in like the ‘ooh, go crazy’, like, hot way, heh, like in the way that… I just think that you are… a really good- a really wonderful person to be around, any time, and you have… pretty much almost no flaws that I can think of, you’re perfect, you’re just… perfect, and I really am sorry you don’t… see that, in yourself.” In the time that Gorgug used to stare at her, she went on softly, “I think, um… I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but… Jawbone will… come into the classrooms sometimes and give little mental health seminars? And I heard about this thing called Imposter Syndrome and I think… maybe you should ask him about it.”

Gorgug gulped, still taking in all she said. He spoke softly, “Well, what- what is it?”

“It’s like… when you feel like you’re not really like, the person who did all the cool stuff you did, and like, you just lucked out or it doesn’t count for some reason,” she explained. Gorgug considered this - it wasn’t too far off. Then again, his logic didn’t  _ feel  _ wrong. It was only when it was said aloud there was anything remotely strange with it. For the past nearly two decades the simple truth had been that he just stumbled into the things that people  _ thought  _ made him great - a fact that was only further solidified when his friends saved the world and he  _ happened  _ to tag along. He could hear the logic in Zelda’s tone - he killed enemies, he saved lives, he fought with the best of them. And yet, his mind wouldn’t for one second entertain the possibility that he was what everyone thought he was.

“Maybe I should… talk to Jawbone,” he considered, eyebrows creased. “I guess I just never really thought about this stuff.”

“Yeah, I mean, I get it, it’s just… That’s not what other people think of you, like, your parents are super proud of you, I promise you,” Zelda assured him. 

He nodded. He tried to believe her, but he couldn’t. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“Really,” she insisted.

He tried again. Impossible. He was, and always would be, a disappointment.

Nevertheless he smiled, nodded, and wrapped a firm arm around Zelda’s shoulders. “Okay,” he whispered, “Thank you.”


	4. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgug consults Jawbone in the park. First about his grandparents, then about something more personal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy cowfolk!!!! got a shortish one for yall today, but the fic is done, so i ASSURE you you will see the end of it in a relatively short period of time.
> 
> on a rare personal note! quarantine has left me, uh, how you say, So Bored And Lonely, so i would like to take this opportunity to put it out there that i would love to do writing collabs, writing trades, take your ideas - whatever! i know some of my "regulars" dont write (at least on here, I usually check out people I see a lot lol) but I also know for a fact that some of you are BRILLIANT authors! dont feel any obligation, but dont be shy either! if youve been interested in any sort of collaborative writing, feel free to hit me the heck up!! alright, thats all! stay fresh, my lovelies!!

It was only about 10:45 by the time he and Zelda parted ways at the edge of the park, and he was exhausted. Heavy talks tended to do that to him - as it was, he wasn’t really a cryer, and he was starting to feel like even after that much he didn’t have any tears left in him. Man, that sounded depressing.

Not just yet ready to go home yet he headed back into the park, tucking his hands in his pockets and folding back his hood to feel the breeze in his hair. It was a beautiful day out, about sixty degrees but the brilliance of the sun made it feel like seventy. After a little while of breathing in the air and feeling his residual tears fade back down his throat things started feeling more objective. Throughout all the bullshit, he couldn’t help but recognize a good feeling in there too. It wasn’t that the bad was gone, more that he knew that it wasn’t… normal. Usually that was a bad thing, but the fact that this was something apparently only he was going through meant that it was, perhaps, possible to fix? He still wasn’t sure exactly what ‘it’ was, but he knew that he’d made Zelda cry, and that wouldn’t do. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but Zelda was very rarely wrong about much of anything. There was another little park bench under a tree, and he set up shop there.  _ This  _ would be it - the conversation that told him what he would do about all this.

He went into his contacts and called up Jawbone. 

“Howdy there, Gorgug, what’s up?” came the cheerful answer. Gorgug played with the strings on his hoodie.

“Um, hi Jawbone,” Gorgug said, “I don’t know if you’re busy… I was just wondering if I could get maybe a little advice?”  
“Of course man, anytime.”

He nodded. “Okay, so… as a kind of backstory, when I was really little I caused like, this big commotion in my family and stuff, and my parents like cut off the rest of the family because they didn’t support them having like, a half-orc kid. And that’s kinda weighed on me for a really long time and stuff and… now… my grandparents on my dad’s side wanna come by and meet me? My parents think they’re coming around but I’m kinda worried they’re gonna be disappointed in me. Also, um, my parents are letting me choose and I um, I don’t know what to do.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a moment of consideration. “Well,” said Jawbone, “I think that you definitely do not _owe_ them a visit, right? You know, they missed out on sixteen some-odd years of your life, they don’t get to just waltz in now as though they have every right to you, and if you were to say no, I think you should have absolutely no guilt doing so. That said, I think this could be a good opportunity for you to try and bridge this gap. I think that if it is true they want to get back in touch with you, that that could be a really wonderful thing. And I think that when people who- who are close to you and who occupy any sort of- mental real estate want to try and resolve conflict that that’s almost always gonna be preferable to letting that conflict linger in your mind. So, really Gorgug I think this all depends on what you want! Do you spend time thinking about what your grandparents think about you or have fantasies of how things could be different?”  
Gorgug considered that. He’d always wondered why he didn’t have as much of a family, and had long built-out daydreams about family gatherings and reunions - all of that had only worsened after the Forest of the Nightmare King. “Yeah, I kinda do,” he said, “I guess I always found the sort of big happy stereotype pretty appealing.”

“Okay, so, that could be a really good reason to let them reach out that hand! And hey, if it goes South and the two of you really can’t get along, at least you’ll have that closure of understanding that it’s a  _ them  _ problem, not a  _ you  _ problem.”

Gorgug nodded. That… made a lot of sense, actually. If he liked them, then, well, he liked them, no losses there. If he didn’t, he could at least understand why. He’d always imagined his family as these picture perfect people who he was missing out on just because he was different, with rosy smiles and warm and loving hugs. But if they were really people like that, then hypothetically they should get along regardless. “Yeah,” Gorgug said, confidence building rapidly, “That sounds pretty good. Um… any advice on how to not uh, screw it up?” he chuckled slightly.

“Well,” Jawbone said, perfectly serious, “Normally I would tell people to be patient, but, Gorgug, you’re one of the most patient people I know, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem in this instance. What I would worry about for you is make sure that if they  _ do  _ try to disrespect you, you’re allowed to stand up for yourself. You don’t have to be aggressive, it doesn’t have to be a fight, but they are not allowed to treat you in a way that makes you feel disrespected, okay?”

“Yeah,” Gorgug agreed, though that seemed like it would be a lot harder than it sounded. “Thanks, Jawbone.”

“No problem, Gorgug, happy to help-”  
“Uh, wait!” Gorgug objected. He swallowed. _Zelda’s usually right,_ he reminded himself, and swallowed his anxiety back down. “There’s actually something else.”

“Oh?”  
“Yeah, I… I was talking to Zelda about this thing called Imposter Syndrome?” He said that much, and then failed to say anymore. Cautiously, Jawbone finished for him.

“Are you… finding yourself relating to some of the symptoms of that, Gorgug?” he asked respectfully. 

Gorgug stared at the grass, running his hand through his hair. “Well… I mean, Zelda seemed to think that… I mean, I guess sort of some of my… uh, beliefs could be… said to align with.” He sighed sharply. Just  _ say  _ it. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Okay. I’m really glad you were able to admit that to me, Gorgug, that was really brave of you.”

Gorgug nodded, relief and pride flooding into his chest. “Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly, “Maybe like, we could meet up sometimes and like… discuss it, or whatever?”

“I’ve got a slot free Wednesday, just after school?”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Jawbone.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Thanks for coming to me.”

“... Alright. See you Wednesday. Bye.” He hung up the phone, and let out a sharp breath. This was gonna be good. He was gonna get better.

He opened his texts and messaged his father:

**Hey dad, coming home now. Sorry I ran off before, just kinda got a bit much. Either way I’d really love to meet my grandparents! Thanks for saying all that stuff -**

Gorgug’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment.

**\- I’m really glad you guys are my parents ok see you soon bye**

Before he could second guess himself he hit send and watched as the personal text fell out of his hands. Less than a second later his father was on his own phone, the bubbles having popped up. Digby answered:

**Your mother and I love you so much buddy! We’re so proud of you for giving your grandparents a chance!**

_ They’re proud of you,  _ a part of him said. 

The voice of the Sphinx returned:  _ You know full well why they’re saying that. _

He frowned, discontented. His parents weren’t liars. He sat on the park bench and read the last line of that text at least a thousand times, and by the end of it he was proud to say he almost just believed it.    



	5. The Trouble With Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgug's grandparents, Gigget and Darra Thistlespring, finally come to pay a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is UP my gang!!! big fan of these next two chapters coming up, not gonna lie. after this is done im not entirely sure what im gonna do? maybe the crossover some more, i know everyone seemed to love that. if its not that itll be an angsty fabian piece ive been considering, or some work with riz and his dad. or - maybe some fig content. gah! i just love all these kids!
> 
> alright folks - enjoy!

The text back from Gigget and Darra Thistlespring was as follows:

**Good to hear! It’ll be good to see all of you again. Please tell your son that we are eager to meet him. Gigget Thistlespring**

It was all he had to go on for all of the rest of Saturday and then up until 5 PM on Sunday.  _ Eager to meet him.  _ What did that mean?  _ Eager to meet him.  _ Why were they eager to meet him? Eager to dislike him, to pull apart his faults? Eager to tell him horrible news? Why would they come to Elmville anyway? He could picture it now: ‘Hi Gorgug, we’re both wonderful people but we just came here to say we both have brain cancer and are going to die this week’. No, that was stupid.

And yet, it wasn’t the stupidest thing he thought that morning on Sunday. He got dressed up, of all things. He almost  _ never  _ got dressed up. In his cute little blue stripe button down and his dress pants, he thought he looked sort of like Riz if he’d been magically doubled in size. He’d brushed his hair, fervently debated whether he should dull or sharpen his tusks before deciding on leaving them alone, he’d put on and taken off the same zip up hoodie at least a hundred times. This had to be  _ perfect.  _ He stared at himself in his bedroom mirror. He had to kneel, of course, to see his face, so he put one knee out to see how well the shoes went with the pants.  _ Eager to meet him. _ It went around and around in his head.  _ Eager to meet him.  _

By 4:45, he was a nervous wreck, tapping his fingers against his knees in the living room. His parents hadn’t neatened, he noticed. That was a bad omen. They always neatened, even for the bad kids, who came over every other day. He tried to remind himself of Jawbone’s logic. This went good, he had new family members. This went bad, and at least he had some closure. It was good logic. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as his gut feeling was that if any part of this wasn’t Hollywood perfect his life would be completely and entirely over. 

The doorbell rang at 4:51, and Gorgug startled so sharply he nearly hit his head on the ceiling. He saw his father let out a tired sigh. His mother patted him gently on the arm, and said, “They’re gonna love you!” Gorgug took a breath.  _ We’re so proud of you. Eager to meet him.  _ Just believe it, just believe it a little bit, come  _ on.  _ They’ve got no reason to lie to you, they’ve got no reason to lie to you…

His father opened the door. Oh God.

There, in the doorway, were two gnomes. They were conventional, if anything, though perhaps more serious than Gorgug was used to. Older, scrunched up faces, wrinkled up noses, sallow cheeks. How had his father come from these people? The one on the right was a man with no beard, no mustache, but long white mutton chops and massive caterpillar eyebrows, dressed in cutesy, victorian looking formal wear. The woman had long hair in two braids that nearly reached the floor and a tiny pointed hat that looked like a sleeping cap. She wore a long green dress, full with the apron and the buttons in the back. If his parents dressed in a sort of steampunk style, then both of them were just… well, the steam. They were covered in little pocketwatches and traditional bangles, buttons and overcoats upon overcoats that made them look nearly spherical from all the layers. Gigget thistlespring had a cane that was barely the size of Gorgug’s forearm, all black with a little gold ball at the top. They were both paler and weaker and smaller than his parents, like little paper dolls that would rip if Gorgug touched them. Somehow that was more intimidating. 

“Mom, dad,” his father greeted, shaking both their hands.

“Nice to see you again, Gigget, Darra,” his mother said, beaming. Gorgug remained absolutely silent in the doorway while these strangers - his grandparents - flashed some cordial smiles.

Darra spoke up, “Yes, it has been some time, hasn’t it? I think we- oh!” Upon seeing Gorgug her eyes went wide enough that they could be seen through the wrinkles on her face, little black beads filled with terror as her hand rushed to her chest. Gigget immediately did the same, eyes going wide as his jaw dropped and he placed a protective hand on his wife. After a moment, they both calmed, and forcibly put their smiles back on. “Oh, you must be Gorgug,” she said. “You’ve grown.”

Gorgug couldn’t think of a way to respond that wouldn’t come off as rude, so he just flashed a cautious smile. There was a distinctly awkward pause, before Digby stepped forward, just next to Gorgug.

“Gorgug, I’d like to introduce you to your grandparents, Gigget and Darra Thistlespring!” he said, “Mom, Dad, this is my boy, Gorgug!” Sensing his nervousness, Digby gingerly took his wrist and moved it slightly forward, showing both parties it was alright to initiate contact. Gorgug bent down and shook two sets of tiny, shaking hands, holding them like one would hold butterfly wings.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. 

Gigget regarded his own hand as though surprised it wasn’t crushed like a soda can. “Nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice gruff and cautious, “You uh… you doing alright in school, you got good grades?”  
His mother jumped on this opportunity like a tiger. “Oh, Gorgug has been doing very well in school, Gigget. Just this week he got a 96 on his test in ba-” She fell silent, and looked to Gorgug, whose stomach dropped. He stared intently at his mother, trying to psychically communicate the phrase _please don’t tell them I’m a barbarian._ “Bard classes!” Wilma finished.

“Oh, you’re taking bard classes?” asked Derra politely.

“Yeah,” he said, “Play the drums. I’m… in a band.”

“Yes, erm… Fig and the Cig Figs,” answered Gigget, “Tell me, do you always play music that’s so… unorthodox? You know you could stand to pick up the gnomish tambourine, it’s really not so different-”

“Let’s get dinner started, shall we?!” said Digby in a panic, and scurried over to the kitchen. 

An unpleasant silence filled the tiny tree while Digby served up dinner, potatoes and a pot roast. As per usual, the dishes of the gnomish guests were much smaller than Gorgug’s, who ate not only like an orc, but like a teenager. It had never been a factor of consideration in that house, so Digby scooped him up a double portion without thinking. Gorgug saw this while his grandparents were taking off their coats and taking their seats and snuck into the kitchen. He grimaced at his dad and snatched what he knew to be his own plate out of his hands, whispering “Thanks, dad!” before heading over to the stove. He put back what must have been at least two thirds of his serving to make it appear ‘normal’ - he was gonna be starving by around 9 PM tonight. He looked longingly at the peas, potatoes, and deliciously dripping slices of pot roast he put back, and told himself that if he was lucky he could sneak out tonight and have the rest of them cold. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, and proceeded back to the table, where his parents were pulling up the few extra chairs they had. He took his seat between his parents - an odd seating arrangement, but one, he knew, was for his protection and defense should something go wrong. Then, there they were. He looked at his grandparents, and they looked back at him. His heart was pounding. Suddenly his enormous appetite had gone.

“Wilma,” initiated Derra, “This pot roast is marvelous, you must tell me how you did it.”

Wilma smiled sweetly. “Oh, you’d have to ask Digby.”  
She blinked at that. “Oh,” she said, then forced a smile. “Digby. You do the cooking.”

Digby was having the hardest time of all the cordial little gnomes at the table at forcing his smile, Gorgug included. Five minutes into the meal and he had on the same face Kristen did when she was forced to be in the same room as her parents for five minutes - just exhausted. “I do,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful, “Sometimes, you know, I figured I would on this occasion. My folks coming over and all.”

“Does Gorgug do the cooking too?” spouted Gigget.

“Gigget…”

“What? It’s just a question. It’s alright for my son to be the one who cooks in the family, I can only imagine it’s alright for his son to do the same. Gorgug, do you cook?”

“Dad, come on,” pleaded Digby.

“It’s just a question! It’s just a question! Gorgug, do you like to cook?” The room went silent. Gorgug swallowed. He wasn’t really much of a cook, but he’d helped his dad in the kitchen a few times, and knew his way around a box of pasta.

“Uh… not really,” he said, barely over a whisper. He sat up slightly. Just be conversational - extend a hand and be _patient_ , he reminded himself. (He had very swiftly forgotten Jawbone’s other piece of advice, which applied to him much more strongly). “Do you like cooking, um… Gigget?”  
He squinted at him, his massive eyebrows fully covering his beady eyes. “I don’t, uh, make a habit of it, no,” he said, “No, I go to work in the day, as a tinkerer. Non-arcane, making various clockwork appliances. Clocks, mostly, but, you know, people will occasionally want other things,” he elaborated, and took a sip of his water. 

“Oh,” Gorgug nodded. “That sounds really interesting. I don’t know a lot about clockwork. What sorts of things do people like that aren’t clocks?”

Gigget warmed up, ever so slightly, and his parents visibly calmed. “Well, there’ll be the occasional request for art-based items. Hippie stuff if you ask me, but you know, it pays. Little clockwork dolls or animals or what not. People also ask for complex weathervanes, and then, you know… all manner of things. I had someone ask me for a kite once. A clockwork kite. That was a doozy.”

“How did you make it?” asked Gorgug eagerly, leaning forward. Things were going well - he saw his grandfather smile - until he got overzealous and his forward movement rocked the table slightly, fully diminishing the mood.

“It’s very complicated,” he said, “I doubt you’d understand it.”

Gorgug shrunk away at that, looking down. Digby, however, kept his gaze firm. “Why do you doubt he’d understand it?” he asked.

“Well, because he’s…” he gestured with his water glass, and Gorgug’s face went deep forest green, “Because he’s…”

“He’s  _ what?”  _ said Wilma sharply.

“In highschool!” blurted Darra, and slapped her husband under the table. “Yes, Gigget only learned such complicated things in college, isn’t that right, Gigs?”

“Yes, yes exactly,” agreed Gigget, looking over to her, “I wouldn’t expect a sophomore to… grasp such concepts, no matter how intelligent he was.”

“Mm,” droned Digby. He was clearly unconvinced. 

There was a moment of unpleasant silence, before Darra cleared her throat, and tried again to initiate a conversation. “So, Gorgug,” she said, “Do you have any hobbies, do anything afterschool?”

“Um…” Gorgug began. How much did he let fly? Keep it ambiguous, he told himself. “Well, you guys know I play the drums, in my, um, band with Fig.”

“Yes, Fig, the erm… devil girl,” said Darra, “Are you and her…?”  
“Oh, no,” said Gorgug with a shy smile.

“Oh! That’s a relief!” she giggled, and took a sip of her water. Gorgug’s heart fell somehow even lower - this was going horribly. Change the subject, he told himself.

“I uh… actually have a girlfriend,” he said. 

“Oh, do ya?” asked Gigget.

“Mhm.”  
“What’s she then?”

The table went silent, Digby and Wilma exchanging wide-eyed glances in disbelief. 

Gorgug murmured, his form shrinking even further, “Um… a satyr, I-I guess, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s like, really nice, and… and stuff.”

Going by the way Darra had rather forcibly put down her fork and how Gigget had fallen serious and silent, he guessed that it mattered. He had gone slightly yellow in the face, and he felt as though he was going to be sick.

Before talking to him, Gigget turned to Digby and said, “You’re letting your son date a satyr?”  
“Her name is Zelda, and she’s a very nice girl,” he answered, teeth gritted. 

“Sure, they’re all nice when they’re sober.”

“Gigget!” Wilma scolded, “Not in my house!”

There was a moment of pause, before Darra shoved Gigget under the table, and he forced a smile. “My apologies, Wilma. I guess I’m just sort of… old fashioned,” he chuckled, as if that was an excuse, “So, Gorgug, this… Satyr, what’s she into?”  
“Um… her name’s Zelda,” Gorgug said again, hoping they’d use it, “And she likes um… music, and stuff. Just sort of hanging out. Crystal games and stuff. I don’t know…” 

“Well…” said Gigget, cutting up a piece of roast, looking unimpressed, “Is she adopted, like you?”

“No, her- her parents are satyrs, too,” he said, and then clarified, “They’re really nice. Really… really nice,” he remembered for a moment the hot, unwelcome feeling of his girlfriend’s dad kissing him on the mouth, pushing his peas around his plate with his fork. His mother smirked and looked at him, remembering the story very well. His grandparents looked between each other, now totally out of the loop. 

“Digby,” spoke up Darra with a soft smile, “I may have shrunk since I was last here but it seems like the house may be bigger! Did you renovate?”

Digby smiled. “We did, actually! Brought the ceilings up. We’d been meaning to do it for some time, but you know, once it got hard for Gorgug here to move around…”  
Wilma gestured with her fork and explained, “When he was, I wanna say six our pediatrician told us he was gonna run into spinal issues if he wasn’t given a little more room, so, you know, we used some crystal magic, made it a little bigger on the inside. I want to invest to upgrade again but this stinker here keeps trying to tell me there’s no point since Gorgug’s gonna move out soon! Which - I know I’m supposed to let go, but it breaks my heart to hear it!” She threw her hands up with a grin, and placed a hand on Gorgug’s arm, who smiled warmly. It was a little more information than she really needed to give, but the affection was there, and it was like a drink of water in the desert at the moment. Digby seemed to feel the same way, smiling warmly at his wife. Of course, it wouldn’t last long. 

“Crystal magic - sounds expensive,” said Gigget, eyes directly on his son, “How much did that put you under, Digby?”

All the joy was sucked from the table once again. Digby took a sip of his water. “Nothing you don’t expect when you… take on the responsibility of a child,” he chided, “It was something we needed to do for our son, we did it. Same you’d do for any gnomish boy.”

“A gnomish boy would fit in your house, Digby.”

“I’m sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” Gorgug said, and stood rigidly up. There was a horrible feeling in his gut and in his throat that told him he might cry again, and he couldn’t do that in front of these exquisitely cruel strangers. Burning under the worried looks of his parents, he hurried up into the bathroom, and gripped the edges of the sink. He looked into the mirror to see his eyes starting to turn dark and puffy around the edges. Don’t look at that, he told himself. Look at your crystal.

He took his crystal out to see a text from Fig, from five minutes ago. 

**ayo gorgug cool if i swing by the tree you left one of your hoodies at the manor and im on my way past it anyway**

Gorgug swallowed. Man, he would love to see someone like Fig right about now. Nevertheless, he answered:

**Now might not be the best time actually**

Fig answered quickly:

**dangggg. you at bloodrush practice or smt???**

**No. i have family over.**

She didn’t respond as quickly this time, the bubbles appearing and disappearing once or twice.

**like extended family?**

**Yeah**

**well dude that’s awesome!! i thought you didn’t like, talk to anyone but your parents really? idk that could be wrong but its super cool if youre making up with them!!**

Gorgug felt a little sicker than he did a second ago. 

**Yeah it’s pretty crazy lol**

That text wasn’t nearly upbeat enough to sound convincing. Some part of him didn’t want it to, really. He listened downstairs to the hushed, aggressive whispers happening downstairs around the table, and his gut churned. 

**everything going ok?**

Gorgug paused, thumbs hovering over the letters. Suddenly not crying was too hard, and he sniffed, feeling hot tears well up in his eyes. He stood there, leaning against the bathroom and crunched under the ceiling, side pressing into the edge of the sink. He was quiet for too long. Fig texted:

**gorgug if they’re treating you badly ill come over bc thats some bullshit they dont get to treat you like that**

He gritted his teeth.

**Thats probably not a great idea**

**why not??**

**Idk its kind of a family thing. and I dont wanna start a fight or anything and ik ur busy**

**are they still over?**

**Yea, I snuck into the bathroom**

  1. **I can come over, tell you i was just stopping by, i didn’t know your grandparents were visiting, all that shit. then, you can introduce us. if i know your parents theyll probably invite me in? (also dont worry this isnt just to get your food i already had dinner)**



Gorgug sniffed. She was really willing to do that. He tried for a very long time to respond well, with something insightful, something grateful. But all he had in him was:

**Ok. thank u**

**np dude ill be over in five.**

Gorgug sighed, and held his phone to his chest for a moment. Oh, thank  _ God.  _ He lifted his phone back up and opened his contact with his mother, and carefully formulated a text.

**Hi mom. Is it ok if Fig comes over and joins us? Im really sorry if it makes things weird but she said she didn’t want dinner and I think it could be really cool to introduce my grandparents to my band mate. If it’s not an ok time I understand.**

There was a moment of pause, before his mother answered:

**I think Fig coming over is a wonderful idea. Are you gonna come back down?**

**Yea I’ll be right there. Sorry for running off**

**Don’t worry about it honey. Any reasonable person would have after being treated like that.**

That was a comforting sentiment to say the least. He took in a heavy breath and let it out, clicking off his phone and tucking it back in his pocket. This was going to be fine. He had his parents, he had his friends. Soon, he’d have Fig here too. Just a little bit more with these people. It occurred to him that he could tell his parents this was just too much and ask them to leave before they served dessert - but no, he thought.

No - he’d gotten a second chance from everyone who’d met him in his life. They’d get a second chance too.

He recomposed himself in front of the mirror and then headed back downstairs. 


	6. Someone Standing Up For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fig joins in the chaos of Gorgug's family reunion. Tensions rise as Gigget and Darra grow progressively more intolerant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up my dudes!!!! second to last chapter, hoo doggy! dont really have anything to say this time but! for the record i DO have a tumblr and its called stammed-cleams. there you came find WAVE after WAVE of dimension 20 content that is, once in a blue moon, original. follow if ur interested!! or dont. its also a lot of trash, if we're being honest. 
> 
> aaaanywho. enjoy!

The energy in the room downstairs was even worse than it was when Gorgug had left. Every member of the group was glaring daggers at somebody else, all of them finishing their dinners in absolute silence. As Gorgug came down Digby forced a smile his way and greeted him swiftly, “Hey bud.”

“Hi,” Gorgug whispered. He looked to his mother, and then gestured towards his father with his head as if to say,  _ did you tell him?  _ Wilma nodded. 

Desperate to break the silence, Gorgug gestured with his fork to the plate. “This is really good, Dad,” he said. 

“Thank you, Gorgug!” answered Digby, “Thought I’d try something new out.”  
“Oh,” answered Gorgug, confused. While it was spectacularly made, they had in fact, had this exact recipe several times before. 

“I should clarify,” elaborated Digby, “I’ve made this a couple times before, but! I’ve never made it with the new fire elemental powered pressure cooker! I’d say it did a lovely job with things, and took half the time! Built it myself a few weeks ago, been meaning to try it out.”

“Oh, cool!” answered Gorgug, “So does that mean there’s like, a whole fire elemental in there, or…”  
“Yeah, he’s just in there!”  
“Cool.”  
The table fell to silence again. Reliable for one thing, Darra got the conversation going once again.

“Gorgug,” she said, “Your parents mentioned you did sports.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“What do you play?”  
He cleared his throat. “I’m actually on the Bloodrush… team,” he said anxiously. Why did every tiny fact about his life feel like coming out to them? 

“Oh,” said Darra, “Isn’t that a little violent?”  
He shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess.”  
“Does your school have a binkenball team?” asked Gigget. Binkenball was a gnomish sport that utilized a lot of little tiny contraptions to move what looked like a little wooden golf ball through a series of rings. 

“I don’t think so,” answered Gorgug.

“Shame,” Gigget elaborated, “Now that’s a worthwhile sport! There’s probably a team somewhere around here, if you were interested in that sort of thing. Are you… interested in that sort of thing?”  
“Binkenball?”  
“Gnome sports,” clarified Gigget, “I suppose I should… expand it to the culture in general. Are you in touch with your roots, Gorgug? Not your true roots but… you know.”  
Gorgug swallowed, the beaten down feeling coming back with a vengeance. “Well, I… I do some tinkering,” he said dryly.

Before he was forced to say anything else a knock came at the door. His mother cast him a grateful look, and then sprung up from her chair with a quick, “I’ll just get that.”

“Were you expecting someone?” asked Darra.

“Not that I know of,” lied Digby.

Wilma opened the door and there was Fig, smiling cheerily. Gorgug felt his shoulders relax, felt a little bit of extra breath leave his body. She looked similar to how she usually did, but a little more… standard. Using a disguise she’d gotten rid of the dye streaks in her dark hair and she was wearing less eyeliner than usual, in a pair of jeans and a cute green turtleneck sweater Gorgug was certain Gilear had gotten for her. Her horns were still there. This getup, knowing Fig, told Gorgug two things. The fact that she was this disguised meant that she was nervous, since she only put on disguises when she felt she was in danger of something. The fact that she was only this disguised told him that she cared about this very much, and was willing to put her own, personal self at risk instead of the self of a stranger for this problem Gorgug had. Gorgug softened - she didn’t have to do all this. 

Darra and Gigget’s eyes widened.

“Fig!” said Wilma cheerily, “It’s been too long, how are you? It’s so good to see you, we were just sitting down for dinner!”

“Hi, Mrs. Thistlespring!” she said, with an eager wave, “I actually, um, was just stopping by to drop off one of the hoodies that Gorgug left at the manor.” She pulled the massive hoodie over one of her shoulders, “Is Gorgug home at all?”  
“He is, as a matter of fact, and what an odd coincidence! We have guests right now, just for the record, but we have some dinner leftover nonetheless! Gorgug, would you make introductions while I get her a serving-”

“Oh, please, Mrs. Thistlespring, you don’t have to-”  
“No, I insist!”  
“Well if you insist,” said Fig, caving instantly at the smell of delightful potatoes and very rich meat. Gorgug stood up and stood next to her. 

“Um, Gigget, Darra, this is my friend Fig, from Fig and the Cig Figs?” he introduced.

“Hi guys. I just want you to know that we definitely threw around some Gorgug related band names before we landed on Cig Figs, I don’t want you to think I’m like, a narcissist, putting my own name in the band name twice before asking the other member if he wanted in,” she clarified quickly. 

Gigget cast her a look, and then completely ignored her, turning to Digby, who had stood up to pull up another chair. “Digby,” he said, “I wasn’t aware we’d have more guests joining us.”  
“Well, neither were we, dad, but friends of my boy are always welcome! ‘A good gnome always makes room for guests’, isn’t that what you used to say?”

Gigget gritted his teeth.

“Well…” said Darra carefully, “Very nice to meet you… Fig.”

“You too!” She grinned at them, and then took her seat between Gorgug and Wilma, which Digby had just dragged up. Gorgug sat down too, and Wilma placed a plate of what would have been Gorgug’s leftovers in front of her. Ah well, thought Gorgug wistfully. One had to make sacrifices for friendship. 

Seeing his expression his mother gave him a quick nod and whispered, “I can whip up something else tonight.” She patted him on the arm.

“Thanks mom,” whispered Gorgug in response. 

“So, Fig,” began Gigget, “What class are you, if I can ask?”

“I’m a bard,” she said, mouth already full of food, “What about you guys?”  
They exchanged looks. “We don’t… have classes,” said Darra, “We are not… adventurers.”

“Oh, ok, I feel that,” said Fig. 

“Gorgug, I believe we were talking about your tinkering,” Gigget refocused. 

“Yeah,” answered Gorgug, “I uh… I just do a little. I’m not really good at it.”  
Fig snorted. The table went quiet.

“Something the matter, Fig?” asked Gigget.

“Oh, no, it’s just… I’m guessing you guys don’t know Gorgug super well since you haven’t really been around-” This she said very flippantly, and already looks were being shot around the table like bullets, “But he is  _ so  _ modest! He’ll tell you he ‘sort of’ does something, but honestly, you should see some of the stuff he builds! Okay, so. When we were going on our adventure to stop the Nightmare King we found this celestial trapped in a crystal and Gorgug was able to install it into the dashboard  _ of our van!  _ You guys are like, really lucky, because your grandson is honestly  _ so cool.”  _ She took a drink of water. The older Thistlesprings forced smiles through their teeth.

“Well, that does sound very impressive,” said Darra. 

“You found a trapped elemental and you used it to power a  _ van? _ ” asked Gigget.

“Gigget, honey…”  
“No, no, no, I’m just asking, I just feel like if you were… adventuring or what not, wouldn’t it have been better used in a weapon of some kind?”  
Gorgug creased his eyebrows, sitting up slightly higher. “Um… I’ve never really built any weapons.”  
“Uhuh,” answered Gigget, “But you use them.”  
Gorgug nodded. “Yeah, I… I use weapons.”  
“Gorgug’s axe is actually of gnomish build!” his mother blurted. Gorgug shut his eyes. Oh, this would be bad.

“Oh, an axe!” Gigget exclaimed, “My grandson’s an orc with an axe! Isn’t that something? Tell me, Digby, is this just what happens when you spiral out of control or did you actually support this?”  
Digby gritted his teeth, looking like he was about to burst a blood vessel. “Gorgug showed an interest in greater weapon wielding at a young age, I saw no reason to discourage that.” he said firmly.

“No reason to- He’s a barbarian, isn’t he?”  
By now Darra had gone quiet, paying just as much attention as Gigget, her top lip curled over in a bitter sneer. No one answered his question. He turned to Gorgug, who had shrunken down completely into his chair. “Are you a barbarian?” he tried to speak, and failed. If he spoke, he would most certainly burst into tears. “Are you a barbarian?”  
“What would it matter if he was, Gigget?” sighed Wilma.

“I can’t believe you people,” exclaimed Gigget, shaking his head, “He plays Bloodrush, he’s dating a satyr, he’s eight darned feet tall, he’s a _barbarian_ with an _axe,_ and you’re trying to feed me this hippie logic, that somehow, he’s not only a gnome, that he’s a _Thistlespring_ too! Well, sir? Not to me he isn’t! He is not part of this family! Maybe if he tried a little harder he could be, but he is _everything_ I warned you he would be the minute those two teenage nobodies left him on your doorstep!”  
“Okay first of all, you’d think for someone obsessed with a culture that is _obsessed_ with manners, you’d know not to talk about someone who’s in the same room with you.”

Everyone turned to the source of the voice. There was Fig, proud as could be, with a finger out and telling these people five times her age what was good manners and what wasn’t. Gorgug stared in awe. Gigget, who was standing by now (though he was still somewhat shorter than she was sitting), looked at her incredulously. “Excuse me?” he said. 

“And second, setting aside the fact that everything you just said was _mind bogglingly racist,_ none of it says anything about who he is as a person. Not on its own!”  
“Young lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed.

“Actually, Mr. Thistlespring, if I can speak out of turn for a moment? It’s  _ you  _ who doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, which left everyone at the table speechless, “If you knew anything about him you’d know that everything you just said isn’t just wonderful for him, it’s wonderful for everyone around him! He’s on the Bloodrush team, because not only is he freaking good at it, but his best friends, Fabian and Ragh, would miss him like crazy if he quit and wasn’t there to hang out with them and help them with their problems, since he helped both of them figure out who they were and asked nothing in return. His ‘satyr girlfriend’ - whose name is Zelda, by the way - is honestly one of the sweetest people I know, and he spent his whole trip last Spring break trying to build a cell tower just so he could text her, because he cared about her that much. As to his height, he’s only ever used it to lift people out of danger and protect them from threats, and as for that axe of his? You can thank that axe for the lives of you, your wife, and everyone you’ve ever known, because he saved the world with it. Twice.” Fig paused pointedly, letting the awed silence stretch on. “You’re right. Gorgug’s not a gnome. But I’ll tell you what he is. He  _ is _ a Thistlespring, he is one of the best and sweetest people I have ever known, and he is my best friend,  _ bitch _ .” She took a sip of her water, leaving his grandparents gasping.

Gorgug looked over at her, tears welling in his eyes. She said all that just for him - and she didn’t have to prove anything.

For a fleeting, beautiful moment, he believed that she was telling the truth. He’d never felt so loved in his life. 

“I- wh- Digby!” gasped Darra, “Tell this… devil-girl to have some respect!”  
Digby stood, his face sober. “You know what?” he said, his voice low, “Fig is absolutely right. Except maybe the b-word part, little much, dear.”  
“Sorry, Mr. Thistlespring, got carried away, you’re right, you’re right.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her, and refocused on his father. He looked down for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Seems as though I’ve lost some of my backbone over these fifteen years. I should have put my foot down the second you said something unkind to my son, just like I did all those years ago. I guess I just hoped now would be different.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I… never wanted my boy to think that he had to choose between being a half-orc and being our son,” he said pointedly, and the words rang through the cramped little wooden room. “And I think that anyone who makes him feel like he has to choose is not welcome in our home.”

Gigget and Darra looked between the four of them incredulously.

“Well, you can’t possibly mean-” blurted Darra.

“We do,” answered Wilma ruthlessly, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

There was one more moment of gawking before the two old conservative gnomes cast one more dirty look their way, collected up their coats, and left.

Digby leaned against his chair and ran a hand through his mane of hair. “Holy moly,” he muttered.

“You said it,” agreed Wilma.

Fig watched them leave with horror. “I want you to know, Gorgug, I didn’t mean to start a fight, I just got so carried away and I-”  
“ _Thank you so much.”_ She was interrupted by the feeling of Gorgug’s massive arms around her, holding her into his chest as the slight wetness of tears sank into her sweater. She paused for a moment, going stiff, before holding him tightly back, and burying her face into his chest.

“Anytime, Gorgug,” she whispered back to him. 

After a warm moment between them, Gorgug pulled back, still teary-eyed, but smiling. His parents had perked right back up - it was impossibly relieving to see them as their old selves again. 

“Well, I… I’m really sorry about that bud, that was something of a disaster,” his father said. “My parents they’re… real stinkers! Now you know why we kicked em outta here!”

Gorgug laughed slightly. “I actually… think it went really good,” he said.

“Well…” his mother said, a little surprised, “Well, don’t let any of that get to your head, ok bud? What they think doesn’t mean _nothing.”_ _  
_ “Thanks, mom,” answered Gorgug, “Thanks, all of you. For um… staying all that stuff.” He sniffed. His father soon welled up with tears just after him.

“Aw, bud! Get in here!”  
Gorgug laughed warmly, bent down, and pulled his parents close to him.   



	7. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgug and Zelda have a discussion about how he's doing, and he pays a visit to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy guys! ik this is posted sooner than usual but what can i say, i guess im attention hungry today. quarantine, am i right? 
> 
> im not exactly sure whatll come after this at the moment!! maybe the crossover i started, maybe some new crown of candy content ive been working on. either way, this about wraps up this one. hope you enjoyed my little story with gorgug!!

A week had passed since all that. It was Sunday again. A peaceful, warm, easy Sunday.

Gorgug was in his room, lying in his bed with his leg folded up and his window propped open, the summer-tasting wind occasionally blowing through his dark hair. In his hands was a white book. The picture on the front was of two tall, blue, humanoid silhouettes to the left and right of a smaller, red silhouette, one of them with a hand on the red silhouette’s shoulder. The title of the book was: “Out Of Place: How Imposter Syndrome Affects The Adopted Child.” He’d only started it this morning, but in a straight four hours of reading he was already a few pages from the end. Jawbone had given it to him just yesterday when he stopped by the manor after he dug it out of his personal library, and he hadn’t ever been able to get through a book so fast. Usually he wasn’t much of a reader - words would confuse him, he’d need to take breaks. But this? It felt as though he already knew what it was going to say next. He couldn’t soak it up fast enough - he hadn’t acknowledged the outside world in hours, his phone totally ignored on his bedside table, and, unbeknownst to him, Zelda standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. She read the cover of the book, and grinned even wider, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is it um… is-is that a good book?” she asked sweetly. Gorgug glanced up, slightly surprised.

“Oh - it’s… just something Jawbone gave me,” he said, sitting up on his bed. “The title’s kind of corny, I know.”

“No, no, I don’t think it’s corny at all!” said Zelda, sitting beside him, “Are you - are you enjoying it, are you getting something out of it?”  
Gorgug smiled effortlessly. “You know? I… really am. I guess I sorta just assumed everybody’s brains told them they sucked all the time.”

Zelda giggled at that. “Well, I think a lot of people’s do but… that doesn’t make it something you should have to put up with.”

“No, yeah, I can see that,” agreed Gorgug, “But anyway, yeah, it’s… it’s really good.” Saying that, he closed the book and set it on his bedside table, just beside his phone. He felt so stiff - he stretched. “What time is it?” he asked, “Are you early?”  
“Actually, I’m kinda late. It’s like, one in the afternoon.”

“Whoa!”

“Yeah!” Zelda laughed, “Just got wrapped up in it, huh?”  
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Realizing how long it had been, Gorgug checked his phone. _59 missed texts from_ ** _tfw ur a pirate but u cant do …_**

Looking over his shoulder, Zelda creased her eyebrows. “Who’s that?” she asked.

“It’s the bad kids group chat, they change the name of it a lot, like, for effect. It’s mostly Kristen, but once everyone goes to bed Adaine will usually change it back into The Bad Kids.”

“Oh yeah I get that. Ostentatia keeps changing the maiden chat name to ‘thotville’ and Penny keeps having to change it back,” Zelda related with a nod. “Better check in on that, clearly some shit is going down.”  
“Yeah,” agreed Gorgug, and opened the chat. The full name was **tfw ur a pirate but you can’t do basic math** , and the reason for that quickly became clear as he read the most recent couple of texts.

_ cant do math _

**I HAVE LITERALLY SAVED ALL OF YOUR LIVES WHO CARES IF I CAN DO DIVISION**

_ adaine _

**How did nobody teach you? Can Cathilda do math?**

_ the ball _

**fabian whats 6 x 7**

_ cant do math _

**i know how to fucking ADDITION riz its fucking 13**

_ apple bee. _

**JDKLSJKLJDWKJS**

**FABIAN THATS A MULTIPLICATION SIGN**

_ the ball _

**oh my god.**

_ the infaethable _

**fabian oh my GOD have you ever seen a plus sign???? how have you gotten this far in life????**

_ cant do math _

**this is so mean you guys are HORRIBLE friends**

**gorgug come to my aid please**

**also kristen if you dont change my name back i am going to KILL you**

_ the infaethable _

**dont drag gorgug into this he can do math!!!**

_ the ball _

**fabian can you even read???/**

_ cant do math _

**wtf do you mean can i read i have READ THINGS IN FRONT OF YOU**

That was the end of the chat so far, but of course, it was exploding just as fast as it always did, which was almost impossible to keep up with. Zelda openly read over his shoulder, looking just as perplexed as he did. Gorgug got into the mix:

_ skipper _

**wait fabian can you seriously not do math?**

_ apple bee. _

**LMAO FIG TOLD YOU GORGUG WOULDNT SIDE WITH U ON THIS DUDE**

_ cant do math _

**WHY IS EVERYONE TEAMING UP ON ME???? ALL OF YOU GUYS CANT DO SOME STUFF**

**I LITERALLY SAW KRISTEN TRIP ON GRASS AND FULLY RIP HER PANTS WIDE OPEN AND NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT THAT**

_ adaine _

**Yes but we all knew Kristen was clumsy this is something exciting and new.**

_ the infaethable _

**hey you non-manor peeps wanna come over?? idk if everyone is down to hang but i am**

_ adaine _

**I’m in**

_ apple bee _

**hell yea we can give fabian a math test**

_ cant do math _

**oh yeah have me come over so you can LAUGH AT ME SOME MORE**

_ the ball _

**alright alright we’re done picking on you fabian**

**youre super good at stuff and math doesnt even matter right guys**

_ the infaethable _

**hell yeah.**

_ adaine _

**I mean it does sort of matter.**

_ cant do math _

**im in if gorgug is coming**

**i cant be around adaine and riz after this has come to light without another jock present**

_ adaine _

**Yeah Gorgug you should come!!**

_ the ball _

**im in as well**

_ the infaethable _

**what say you, o skipper??**

Gorgug smiled at his phone. “Wanna come?” he asked.

“Nah, my parents are gonna need my help to set up a ritual and stuff, I was just like, stopping in or whatever,” she answered.

“Gotcha.”

_ skipper _

**yea I’ll come over! jock solidarity 💪💪💪**

**i can do math tho.**

_ cant do math _

**gorgug i am BEGGING**

Gorgug pocketed his phone for a moment, letting the rest of that pan out as it would. It felt good when his friends wanted him there - better now that he was learning to believe them. He turned to Zelda - he took a moment to watch the way her hair fell around the curve of her face, the way her eyelashes gingerly hit her cheek when she looked down. He always hated saying goodbye, even if it was for something good.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he said, voice barely over a whisper. 

She nodded. “I was… glad I could. Even if it was just for a second.”  
“Yeah…” whispered Gorgug. There was a moment of quiet, perfect quiet, inches away from each other. 

Zelda smiled anxiously, and almost like an afterthought, she said, “I love you.”  
Gorgug flushed with warmth, an insuppressible smile coming to his face. The voice of the Sphinx spoke up. But a much louder voice, his own voice, easily spoke over it. 

_ Wow,  _ it said,  _ she really does love you. _

Feeling lighter than he had in years, Gorgug grinned and ran a gentle hand through her hair. He leaned forward, gave her a kiss, and said, “I love you, too.”   
  



End file.
